


Shifting Views

by pretzelduck



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzelduck/pseuds/pretzelduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night between Jon and Malcolm changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perception

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Originally written in November 2003. Posted now for archive purposes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm reflects on the morning after and acts on shifted views.

I wonder if he was disappointed.

 

He was rather quiet afterwards.  Eyes closed, he kept a gentle but tight hold on me.  Every time I shifted, he would pull me closer to him.  It's like that now.  We're spooned together in his bed, his chest against my back.  There is a sheet covering us that Jonathan wrapped around us after I shivered.  I'm well aware of the time and my location.  I should be leaving but he won't let me.  As an armory officer, it would be conceivable that I possess a greater strength than my captain.  But I cannot move.  Jonathan has what can only be called a death grip on me.

 

I suppose if I truly wished to, I could break his hold on me.  But I don't know if I want to.  I cannot recall my mere presence being so important to anyone before.  He doesn't want me to go before he wakes.  I can sympathize; I've woken to an empty but previously occupied bed before.  However, it would be better for both of us if I did not remain.

 

It would be best if I did not return.

 

But now that I know how he truly feels about me...

 

Jonathan was emphatic about assuring me that he cared about me and had for a great deal of time.  He listed a number of my supposed qualities that attracted him to me.  It still seems rather odd that he sees such things in me.  No one has ever described me as passionate or vulnerable before.

 

A substantial portion of my life has been spent keeping others away.  With each new pain, it became easier to not trust until I was certain that I was impervious to the need to be close to another person.

 

It's odd then, that I am as reluctant as I am to leave his bed.  I've been awake for most the night.  It took me what passed like a slow hour to become somewhat accustomed to his arms around me.  Despite an impression I once gave to Commander Tucker, it has been quite awhile since I have been touched with any intimacy.  The feel of his fingers caressing my bare chest as he slept is disconcerting to say the least.  Jonathan has slept so soundly, only moving when I move.  Apparently comfortable with me in his bed.

 

I don't know how he can be so at ease with this change in our relationship.  I'm not even entirely certain what sort of relationship we had before this.  There was the framework for a friendship, a burgeoning set of shared experiences and a mutual respect for each other.  But were we friends?  Are we friends now?  Or did we inexplicably bypass that step and move straight into something else?

 

Something, indeed.  One night that held so many firsts.  The first touch of our lips, the first time I've spoken aloud his given name, the first admittance of an apparently mutual attraction.  I've avoided analyzing my feelings regarding him for a reason.  Any thoughts of him are immediately relegated to a space in my mind labeled 'captain'.   And until last night, not a single one escaped. 

 

Until he hesitantly reached out and took my hand.  There was a lengthy pause in a discussion we were having about the weapons systems.  We had been more or less arguing about security again and I was trying to find another way to explain to him my point-of-view, when I felt his fingers touch mine.

 

In that single instant, every thought I had mistakenly believed to be locked away manifested itself fully grown in my mind.  My memories of him... his touch, his smile, all the things he had ever said to me...and this forced re-examination of them quickly proved dangerous when I looked into his luminous eyes. 

 

Everything shifted.

 

Another first...the most important...the first time I didn't see my commanding officer but a man who wanted me.  There was a reason I didn't analyze my feelings toward him.  I couldn't be attracted to my captain.  It was, and is, beyond inappropriate.  But last night, I wasn't looking at my captain.  I was looking at Jonathan.  The man I knew I had longed for, no matter how much I had tried to think of him as a figure rather than as a person.

 

And I couldn't deny him nor could I lie to him.  I wanted him to make love to me.

 

Lying in his arms afterwards, I tried to keep my vision of him.  It was suddenly a precious thing to me.  Jonathan was precious to me.  But the hours passed anyway and the revelation failed me and he transformed back into the captain I cannot care for.  The value of what I had seen before slowly began to fade.

 

I need to leave.  If I do not do so now, I might not ever.  And I cannot stay.

 

The feeling of not having him pressed up against my back is as painful as any physical wound I've known.  There is enough light for me to discern my things among the scattered bits of clothing on the floor.  Jonathan had set the lights to their minimal setting.  He said he wanted to be able to see my reactions to his touch.  I still don't quite understand that.  I've never had sex with the lights on before.  I thought it was supposed to be dark...

 

My training comes in use as it is relatively easy for me to get dressed without disturbing either Jonathan or Porthos.  I'm not concerned about my undoubtedly disheveled appearance.  It wouldn't be the first time I've been seen stalking the corridors in the early hours after nodding off in the armory.

 

The sound of movement behind me stops me from exiting the room.  Jonathan is moving in his sleep.  The hand that was moments ago caressing my chest is vainly searching the place where I was for my missing body.  The mouth that was only hours ago making me writhe in pleasure is beginning to frown as his hand encounters nothing but air and fabric.

 

An urge to climb back into his bed just to make that frown disappear rushes through me so I counter it the only way I know how. 

 

The sound of the door closing behind me seems almost thunderous in the stillness of the hallway.  But it is a mere whisper to the sound of the door opening again as my feet continue to propel me further away.  And it is pure silence in comparison to Jonathan's sleepy voice echoing in my ears.

 

"Malcolm?"

 

A moment's hesitation.  My feet stop their forward progress for an instant.  He sounds... lost.  But an echo is just that.  An echo.  His voice fades as I continue away from his door. 

 

However, I cannot help but wonder once more if he was disappointed.

 

If he meant it, when as he drifted to sleep this night, he whispered in my ear...and said he loved me.


	2. Ambiguity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon chased after his dream but he doesn't know if he caught it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Switches to Archer POV here

This isn't the first time I've watched him walk away.  I do it a lot, actually.  It's safer to stare at that gorgeous ass and wonder about the texture of the skin hidden by the uniform than it is to look Malcolm in the eyes.  If I gaze into his eyes too long, I have a tendency to drown in them.  So much is hidden there.  Layer beyond layer of the nuances that make up the thoughts and the personality of Malcolm Reed. 

 

I had hoped for a long time...years, actually...that one of those layers held affection for me and that if I looked into his eyes at just the right time, I would see it.  Then, I could tell him how much he meant to me.

 

And I thought that time came last night. 

 

Even with his non-response to my calling out his name, I can't just let him walk away.  Not again.  My dream of being with Malcolm, like other dreams I've had, refuses to die a quick death.  I take off down the corridor after him.  I don't care that I'm wearing only the boxers I threw on after I heard Malcolm leave.  I don't care that I'm the captain of the ship chasing after one of my officers in my bare feet.  I'm not letting him get away that easily. 

 

As I come around the corner, his fingers are only centimeters from the call button for the turbolift. 

 

"Malcolm..."

 

His outstretched hand lowers until it's against his side but except for that, Malcolm doesn't look toward me or make any other motion.  It's almost like he didn't hear me.  Reaching out, I slowly place my hand on his upper arm.  Not to grip it or to hold him in place but to touch him.  I need to touch him.  It's weird to feel fabric when hours ago I felt skin.

 

I get the reaction I wanted, though.  Malcolm turns slightly so he's looking at me.  There's so much turmoil in his eyes.  I want to pull him into my arms but I don't know if he wants me to.  When I manage to look at the rest of him, I notice that his hair is still ruffled from where I ran my fingers through it last night and there's a light blush staining his cheeks.  I've never seen him look more adorable. 

 

"I need...do you...could we..."  Apparently, the sight takes away my ability to speak coherently.  So I settle on the only thing I can get out of my mouth.  "Malcolm."

 

Catching a hold of his eyes, I look at him, begging him with my eyes to tell me what he was thinking.  Or something.  Anything.  I keep watching until his head just barely shakes from side-to-side and his eyes close, blocking off my view.          

 

"Not now.  Perhaps later."  His voice sounds rough like he's barely under control.  I can't push him.  This can only work if he shares what I feel.  But a plea escapes me anyway.

 

"Please..." 

 

At my harsh whisper, Malcolm turns and looks at me for an instant before he presses the button.  This time he doesn't hesitate.  I don't bother trying to follow him. 

 

Forcing myself to walk back to my cabin, I refuse to think about anything until I'm inside.  I can feel pain race up my arm as my hand slams against my closed door seemingly of its own accord.  What happened?  I thought we made a connection last night.  Did Malcolm not listen to what I told him?  I tried to explain to him how much I care about him.  I'm not one for casual sex; I never have been.  This wasn't a one-night stand.  Not for me, anyway.  And I was under the impression that it wasn't for him, either.

 

But then again, Malcolm never did voice his feelings out loud.  His response to my declaration of a long-held attraction was to pull me in for a kiss.  I didn't stop to question him because I couldn't control myself.  His lips were soft and responsive.  His hands were roaming everywhere along my body.  And his eyes were burning with a desire unmatched by those in even my most wanton dreams about him.

 

With month after month of wondering and wanting, I couldn't pull away to ask him if he'd been dreaming about this too.  I didn't dare.  I needed him too badly.  And he was in my arms.

 

I made love to him and afterwards, I pulled him into my embrace and told him that I love him.  He didn't respond.  Again.  Malcolm did stay, though.  He could have left as soon as I fell asleep if he couldn't face me.  But he stayed all night.  Doesn't that mean something?  If he was just looking for a physical release of some kind, I think I would be the last place he would turn. 

 

Did I force myself on him?  Did Malcolm feel that he couldn't turn me down? 

 

No.  That doesn't seem right.  He has no trouble telling me what he thinks of some of my decisions regarding security.  I think that he wouldn't let me do things to him that he didn't want.  I have to believe that.  Even if it's only for the sake of my own sanity.

 

I need to shower and I need to get dressed.  No matter how much I might not want to, I still have to work today.  Nothing can be resolved with Malcolm right now.  He doesn't want to talk.  Later, he said.  Later isn't now, if later even ever comes.  Maybe work will help me focus.  There are people depending on me, after all.  Even the person who seems to be unknowingly walking around with my heart in his hands.

 

Just as I'm about to strip, the chime sounds announcing that someone is at my door.  Could it be?  My hands are shaking so I rub them together to try and make it a little less obvious.

 

"Come in."

 

I'm hoping for an uncertain and handsome Englishman to be standing shyly on the other side of the door.  Instead, I get a way too awake engineer.

 

"Trip."

 

"Mornin', Cap'n.  I thought I'd get an early start and since you're always up at this hour..."

 

Damn, damn, damn.  Trip's voice trails off as my mind tries to imagine Malcolm standing in his place.  He would be nervous, knowing that by returning he was telling me how deep his feelings for me ran.  I would usher him inside, thinking that he would be more comfortable within the privacy of four walls. 

 

Trip shaking me forces the illusion to disappear.  I don't even try to hold on to it.

 

"You're out of it this mornin', aren't ya?"  He looks around me and I watch his eyes take in the comforter on the floor and the rumpled sheet on the bed.  There's a hint of compassion in his eyes when he looks back at me.  "Rough night?"

 

"You could say that."

 

And only Malcolm knows if it will happen again.


	3. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm makes a decision on which view of Jonathan Archer he wants to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Switches back to Reed POV here

As soon as I enter the lift, I hit the 'stop' button.  The last thing I want to face at the moment is the sterile features of my own quarters.  I can safely think in here.  It's too early for my holding of the turbolift to disturb many.  I still have two hours before my shift begins and I need to sort out my thoughts.  I need to get the image of him out of my mind.

 

Later.

 

There are a dozen different things I could have said.  The one that I chose implied that I would talk to him eventually.  He is the captain so I cannot necessarily avoid him.  However, that inability applies to duty-related interactions.  Off-duty, I can...and have...give him a wide berth.  He's too personable.  Wanting to spend time with me.  Seeking me out when he feels I've worked too many hours.  It's rather distracting.  He makes it difficult to keep him at a distance.  That wide berth I've always tried to maintain has been shrinking as of late but I still managed to keep our exchanges within the professional realm.

 

Until last night, at least. 

 

One look into those damnable eyes of his and all thoughts of professionalism seemed insignificant to me.  All that mattered was the feel of Jonathan's lips against mine and any remaining distance between us dissolved when we returned each other's explorations without hesitation.  Every caress made us bolder.  Each kiss held more passion than the last.  When we briefly parted, starved for air, he looked at me with a reverence I know I will always remember. 

 

Jonathan cradled my head in his hands and not allowing me to look away from his eyes, he told me how long he had wanted me and how much I meant to him.  He looked sincere and hopeful.  Wanting me to respond with a similar declaration.  I couldn't say anything.  Nothing I said would be right and his illusion of me would have shattered.  In actuality, I am not the man that Jonathan sees.  But I didn't dare correct his mistake.  No one has looked at me like I'm the center of their universe before.  I could quite easily let myself become immersed in his gaze.

 

If only it was truly meant for me.

 

However, I cannot say that I regret my actions of last night.  There was such tenderness in each of his movements and all of his words.  Jonathan made me feel as if I was deserving of his warmth.  That man is so persistent that a part of me believes that given time, he could convince me that I actually do.  The piece of my mind that I have listened to my entire life reminds me of why I cannot give him that time.

 

It comes down to the propriety of an intimate relationship with my commanding officer.  There would be innumerable complications and the constant concern regarding preferential treatment.  I cannot become involved with my captain.

 

But it isn't my captain that I want.  It's Jonathan.  The man I allowed myself to see last night.  That is who whispered words of affection to me and looked at me with such wonder.  It would take but one more glance into his eyes for me to admit to him that I care for him as well.

 

I worry, though, how long my ability to keep the man separate from the captain will last.  It's fleeting; abandoning me as I laid in his bed this morning only to return now after I've ignored his plea for me to talk to him.  I never imagined that he could be so flustered and uncertain.  Those are sensations I usually associate with myself instead.  But he was.  It was almost enough to keep my fingers from pressing the button to call the turbolift.  Almost.

 

The distance I kept between us disappeared last night and I know if I go back to his quarters...if I talk to him about what happened between us...then there will be no return.  I know, without a doubt, that I would not be able to lie to him.  I couldn't last night and if he asked me what it meant to me, I would tell him the truth.  I would say that it was everything.  If I breach that distance one more time, it will be impossible to recreate.  Jonathan would become a part of my life.  I don't think he would accept anything less than an actual relationship.  Complete with dinners and movies and endearments.

 

I have to admit that it is an intriguing image.  The two of us cuddling together on his bed, watching an old movie, his arms around me, my fingers interlaced with his.  Relaxed and comfortable with each other like Jonathan was with me in his bed.  

 

Would the real end result of a final acknowledgement of my feelings be different than my imagined picture?  Could Jonathan actually convince me of the veracity of his feelings and teach me to accept my own? 

 

How much is too much faith to place in another person?

 

Everyday, I trust him with my life.  Is my heart...my true self...any different?

 

Jonathan came after me.  He has done it before but never down the corridors of Enterprise, in his underwear, and with so much emotion in his eyes.  He has refused to leave me behind, be it alive or dead, and now he has refused to let me leave him behind.  To walk away from his life without saying why. 

 

If I had remained with my original assumption, that he is the captain and nothing else, then I would not be thinking about any of this.  But at the right moment, I looked into his eyes and truly saw Jonathan.  So now I know.

 

I don't want to walk away.

 

My uniform is disgracefully rumpled and I'm in desperate need of a shower and a shave but I'm going back.  To him.  To Jonathan.

 

It seems like barely a second passes before the lift door opens and I find myself back out in the hallway, this time walking toward his cabin instead of away from it.  Rounding the corner, I'm presented with something I did not expect.  A view of Commander Tucker leaning against the doorway to Jonathan's open quarters.

 

I keep my footsteps soft so I can creep close enough to make out what they are saying.  Nothing about Jonathan and me; the commander is prattling on about an adjustment he wants to make to the intake manifolds. 

 

Perhaps this wasn't the best idea.  Obviously, I can't talk to him with the commander around. 

 

Wait...he's leaving and not walking anywhere toward me.  I don't think he even noticed my presence in the corridor behind him.  Poor observational skills, in my opinion.

 

But Jonathan sees me.  I can feel his eyes fall on me before he shuts the door.  My eyes meet his, although I've given them no such command.

 

There's that look of awe again.  It pulls me toward him.  This time I let myself become engulfed by it.  Each step I take makes his smile a little bigger.  Each one gives me a little more strength. 

When I finally reach him, he wraps his arms around me and finishes what his eyes began, pulling me inside his quarters until the door shuts behind us. 

 

It's just the two of us now and this close to him, I can feel his body trembling slightly.  Insecurity has replaced the wonderment in his eyes.  My being here is almost too much for him to believe. 

 

"It's all right, Jonathan.  I didn't know if I was coming back either."


End file.
